


on a twin-sized mattress (the night you escaped)

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Guns, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Minor Mentions of Underage Sex, OOC Oma Kokichi, Please Keep That In Mind, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, a lot of this is OOC, not a lot of mentions of that, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: and yet, after that experience, all the grounding, terrifying things he went through,he still can’t fathom that kokichi ouma is gone.(or, at the traintracks that stole his childhood, shuichi and his friends reminisce on someone they never really had.)
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Iruma Miu (past), Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi (One-Sided)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 38





	on a twin-sized mattress (the night you escaped)

_ “hey, shumai, how are-” _

_ “we need to talk.” _

_ he hums at the cutting words, not flinching at all. “you look pretty serious, shu-shu! maybe you need to-” _

_ “why are all your bags packed?” he stays silent even as the other’s voice raises. “why did you text me at one am last night saying you found a gun dealer? where are you going?” _

_ “shu-” _

_ “why are you doing this to me?” _

_ he huffs, glaring at the now-crying visitor while shoving another blade into a suitcase. “i’m leaving this town. i’m getting the fuck out, and i’m cutting contact. it’s what makes me happy. having a fresh start makes me happy. i thought you  _ wanted _ me to be happy.” _

_ “i do! i…” he breathes in. “you’re manipulating me again, aren’t you?” _

_ “manipulating you? shu, what are you talking about? are you okay? feeling sick? need your mommy to make you some chicken-noodle soup? oh wait, your mom is-” _

_ “you never tell the truth.” _

_ “it’s self defense,” he snaps back. “i thought you knew that. none of this matters. you’ll be better off forgetting me anyway.” another bottle of pills goes into a duffel bag. _

_ by the time he adds in a wad of cash, the other is choking on sobs. “stop. you made your point. you’re leaving. please just stop.” _

_ he shakes his head, still looking at the bag. “get out, shuichi.” _

_ he does.  _

_ he never sees him again, because at midnight, he gets on a train and leaves town without so much as a goodbye on his lips. _

shuichi stares at the train track, scratching his arm with untrimmed fingernails as he tries to ground himself. he saw the train leave, too late (too powerless) to stop it, and he spoke to the police. they looked at him— calculating, sympathetic— and he gave them most of the truth, with a few lies intertwined. he doesn’t think they bought it all, but they let him go. 

and yet, after that experience, all the grounding, terrifying things he went through, 

he still can’t fathom that kokichi ouma is gone.

“do you think he was lying?” rantaro suddenly inquires, eyes dark and emotion hidden away. he’s less smooth now, less laid back; his shoulders are tense and eyebrows furrowed. he elaborates on his question, “back at kaito’s party, i mean. when he said he smoked, did hard drugs, had sex? he didn’t even hesitate, but maybe he-“

“he was lying,” maki simply replies, her voice cool and neutral. “he always fucking lied.”

“he was struggling, maki,” rantaro presses. “he was hurting so much.”

she turns to look at him, her dark brown hair moving with the wind as she rolls her eyes, “all of us were— fuck, are— struggling. that doesn’t mean i’m going to push kaede to the breaking point, make her start cussing, make her cry. that’s what an asshole does.” 

and, what could any of them say to that?

_ “my dad’s taking apart my dresser. he’s going to find my blades.” _

_ “are you lying?” _

_ “i’m not even lying. i’m fucking scared, shuichi.” _

_ “tell him you left something in there or something.” _

_ “even a masterful liar like me wouldn’t be able to pull that off.” _

_ “god, i don’t know how to help!” _

the numb question escapes shuichi’s mouth before he can process it. “how do you think miu and himiko are taking this?”

maki laughs, but there’s no happiness. only exhaustion. “well, i know himiko is probably distraught. she watched him grow up into something entirely different. she’s probably lost. and miu... i have reason to believe she doesn’t care.”

“they dated, maki!” rantaro shouts.

“for three days, before they both realized they were gay. three days, mind you, where she was mistreating him while he was cheating on her.” her eyes go to shuichi subtly, as if to say:

_ he flirted with shuichi too. he tore his heart out, twisted it, put it back, did it again and again until shuichi reduced him to a best friend and kokichi established him as nothing. _

rantaro shakes his head, “stop blaming him for shit, maki. he was broken in more ways any of us are. he’s texted me, late at night, to say his dad-“

“-was hurting him, but i come to find months later he doesn’t even have a dad.” shuichi thought he did have a dad.  _ fuck. _ “do you think i’m an idiot?”

“i think you were never really friends with him.”

“can you blame me?”

“yeah, yeah, because he’s  _ gone _ , maki!“

“we’re twelve.” shuichi’s comment breaks the tension into silence. he notes the way his own voice trembles, how he tucks his hat further down to cover his eyes.

maki shoots him a soft look, “and we’ll be thirteen next year.”

“this isn’t something you go through when you're twelve,” he argues. “i mean, i wouldn’t fully know. i’ve never been twelve before this, in a past life or something. i don’t really believe in that. but twelve year olds shouldn’t be talking to the police. or looking into the side effects of drinking bleach. or trying to figure out if their best friend actually cares about them.” shuichi takes off his cap and rubs at his temples, the callouses in his fingertips making him want to crumble. “isn’t that kind of messed up?”

maki shrugs, seeming more solemn than before, her anger dying down into nothing. “none of us got the childhood we should have had. i’m not even surprised this happened to us.” her voice turns to a whisper as she glances at her hands, “i knew what a dead body looked like before the age of ten.” 

shuichi doesn’t have to say anything for her to know the circumstances were the same for him.

“my childhood was fine,” rantaro interrupts. he almost seems sad saying it. “i have no right to be this messed up, because my parents didn’t hurt me, or die, so i-“

“when was the last time you actually talked to your dad?” maki asks. the green-haired boy doesn’t reply. “when was the last time you smiled? do you even remember a time where you  _ weren’t  _ depressed? you told me everything fell apart in third grade, and i don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like a good childhood. that sounds like someone dealt you with shitty cards.”

shuichi hears rantaro sniffle. shuichi immediately surges forward to wrap his arms around him and he feels long arms hold him back. maki stands to the side silently, saying nothing, doing nothing. the scene, the pressure in the air pulling shuichi down, the cold-- it all makes him want to fall apart.

(but at least, at  _ least,  _ rantaro is warm. he smells like trees and sweat from having to run to the train station, only to see the train leave without him. 

but if shuichi closes his eyes and tries not to think, it reminds him a little bit of a forest.)

_ “it’s not your fault.” _

_ “kokichi?”  _

eventually, maki speaks, sounding more vulnerable than ever. “what if i was in the wrong?”

rantaro laughs bitterly, choking with every exhale of cold air, “if you were in the wrong, so were we.”

“no, because you believed him.” she ran her fingers through her hair and shut her eyes tightly. “what if he wasn’t lying? about the drugs and the alcohol and the disease-“

“what disease?” shuichi finds himself asking. “he never mentioned a disease.”

(and part of shuichi breaks because,  _ god, i thought he promised he would tell me everything. _ )

rantaro shakes his head and says, “back before you really knew him, he told me and maki that he had a disease.”

“did you ever question why he had that fancy chair with him? why he couldn’t stand for long periods of time?” maki sits down in the dirt, sighing. “i never knew the name of the condition, and my research didn’t get me very far. but the next year, when you met him, when you turned twelve, when he started going by kokichi... gone. i never heard a word about it. never saw the damn chair again. kaede asked about it, but he called her ableist and called himiko transphobic, so we all gave up.”

shuichi doesn’t say anything in response. how could he have missed so many signs, so many clues? he should have known kokichi wasn’t okay; he should have known kokichi was lying. he never said anything when kokichi swore he was going to leave, and now...

... now his best friend (?) is gone, not leaving behind a trace.

_ “i know you won't check this, and i know i keep dwelling on this.....but you aren't actually going to delete everything, right? you'll keep things. right? rantaro isn't going to forget about you. i'm going to cry every time he mentions your name. how do you expect me to keep this secret? you tell me to forget. i can't. i won't. how do you expect me to go about this? i can’t do this. i can’t do this i feel sick, i feel so sick. i’ve got to go. i feel so sick.” _

“do you think he’ll ever call us?” shuichi feels desperate to hear an answer he knows now will be a lie. he tries not to fall apart when maki shakes her head, trying again, “well, what if we call him?”

(would he even answer?)

“he changed his cell, shu.” rantaro wipes the remnants of tears away. shuichi hesitantly lets go, missing the warmth, and sits beside maki, arms gently touching. rantaro keeps standing, looking through the train tracks in front of him, seeing something far more grim. “he may text us once or twice, but i’m never going to hear his voice again.”

“you don’t know that,” maki smiles morosely. “when you become a world-famous guitarist, he’ll be at your concerts.”

the green-haired boy shakes his head, slumping. “i don’t want to do that shit anymore. what dreams do i have to chase? nobody will be there to congratulate me. nothing fucking matters anymore.” after a pause, he adds, “i wish i could hate him.”

maki exhales, the puff of air visible in the frigid weather, “i wish i could stop.”

and what do you say to that?

_ “i hate all of you.” _

_ “...kokichi?” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “i’m already depressed, don't pull a joke on me.” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “DOES ME CARING ABOUT YOU MEAN NOTHING?” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!” _

_ “are we not?” _

_ “I THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME!” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “fuck my life.” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “i hope you know that you’re ruining my life.” _

_ “i ruin everyone’s life what did you expect?” _

_ “i’m sorry.” _

_ “i love you more than i love most people. i love you more than rantaro or maki. and that’s why i have to go.” _

_ “yeah.” _

_ \-- _

_ “i have a question, shu-shu. if i were to die suddenly, what would you think?” _

_ “i’d really hate myself. haha i’d… really, really hate myself.” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “kokichi.” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _ __   
  


_ “kokichi you can’t do this to me.” _

_ kokichi ouma is offline. _

_ “FREAKING REPLY PLEASE! KOKICHI! KOKICHI PLEASE DON’T KILL YOURSELF I’LL GO WHEREVER YOU ARE I’LL BRING A CROWD OF PEOPLE JUST PLEASE GOD  _ **_DON’T KILL YOURSELF._ ** _ ” _

“we went to all those festivals together,” shuichi says quietly. even the wind falls silent as he speaks. “the concerts and the one for a school project. rantaro took pictures while kokichi stole my hat and posed with it and i tried so hard not to be mad about it because he was smiling. and the time in english class where we were so confused about what the teacher was saying so we just ate these mint chocolate squares he had. he had so many and they were  _ so _ good, and i remember i saved one to give to my uncle.” the phantom taste of mint melting on his tongue is so painful to him. he savors it anyway. “and we had all those times in the gym. we’d sit next to the stereo and i’d listen to him talk about guys when all i wanted-“  _ was him _ , he finishes in his head. it’s almost too much to carry on, but he continues because he has to. “i still have the pictures. i think we should bury them somewhere near these train tracks.”

maki slides her hand into his and squeezes it. rantaro sits beside him and slings an arm around his shoulder, sighing. the brunette gives a fleeting, genuine smile and she breathes out, “we will, shuichi. i think that’d be good.”

“yeah.” rantaro nods. 

shuichi takes a deep breath, looking at the sun about to set. his uncle should be on his way, but he hardly cares. he doesn’t want to go home to be warm and safe; he wants danger and cold, to freeze until he can hardly breathe. he wants red-blue lights and late night conversations. he wants adrenaline. but he can’t muster the energy to do anything more than shallow breaths. 

_ playful lavender eyes alight with mischief, “my beloved shuichi, i don’t think you understand.” _

_ “i think i do,” he argues weakly. “everyone keeps telling me you’re lying to me, and every time i try to fight back you tell me that i think you’re a lost cause, but you aren’t, i-” _

_ “you do think i’m a lost cause.” his words sharpen, grin fallen. “none of you bitches ever cared. no one does.” _

_ he shakes his head, “i care so much, so, so much.” _

_ “prove it.” _

_ “i can’t.” his voice shakes. _

_ “i know.” _

_ “i don’t think you’re a lost cause. i just… i just wish you tried. like we all do.” _

_ he’s silent for a moment before a bright, almost beautiful smile spreads across his face. “oh, shu-shu, maybe i don’t need to be saved.” _

_ it’s the last thing he says before he gets into the car, heading towards a mental hospital. _

“do... do you think we could have saved him?” shuichi whispers. 

maki hums, her crimson eyes looking into the horizon, admiring the pink sky fading to navy. “no,” she admits, “but i think we can save ourselves.”

they fall silent, then, watching the sun go down before pulling themselves up, wiping dreary eyes, and entering their ride home, a car ride of silence and longing. 

in the skies, shuichi sees nothing, but he can’t help but hope,

that somewhere, somewhere, kokichi ouma is thinking about him.

_ “will you forget me?” he asks one day, upset and unable to handle the other’s cyclical jokes. he doesn’t see the downwards twitch in the other’s smile,  _

_ if he did, the pain would be unbearable. _

_ the jester shakes his head and forces a smile. “never.” _

_ “you’re lying.” _

_ “i’m not. i don’t lie to you like i lie to the others.” he reaches to grab the other’s hand (shaky, pale). “i love you. i’ll never forget you. but you need to forget me.” _

_ “i’m not going to. some pieces of the past you need to keep. even if i never hear from you again. even if you… go away… and i don’t know it.” _

_ “...yeah.” _

_ “...when you say you love me, are you lying?” _

_ “what? no.”  _

_ “you’re not deleting everything, right? rantaro said you aren’t.” he mumbles.  _

_ “hah.” it isn’t an answer, and it makes panic rise in the others throat. he corrects it and says, “i’m not. can’t leave behind DICE.” _

_ he offers the trembling boy a hand as he stands. the two of them start walking down the empty hallways, not making eye contact with any other students. _

_ as they walk, the shorter whispers into the other’s ear, “i’m not leaving.” _

_ and shuichi saihara believes his lie, _

_ the same as he always does. _

the same as he always did.

_ i miss you so bad, i can hardly breathe. _

\--

_ it’s no big surprise you turned out this way _

_ when they closed their eyes and prayed you would change _

_ and they cut your hair, and sent you away _

_ you stopped by my house the night you escaped _

_ with tears in my eyes, i begged you to stay _

_ you said “hey man, i love you, but  _ **_no fucking way._ ** _ ” _

**Author's Note:**

> quick reminder to say that i know this is terribly ooc lol. not trying to villainize characters, just trying to vent through em. the ooc-ness of it kind of made me cringe, but. i did my best, i guess, while tryna vent. so it really do be shitty, though. hope u enjoyed anyway.
> 
> anyway. damn, january 30th, 2018 really was a day of clownery, huh.
> 
> also, quick note, uh. i don’t know how twelve year olds really act. this is based off of me as a twelve year old, so. not really sure about the realism here. sorry.
> 
> i wrote this a bit ago, so the writing isn't really great, but... re-reading and editing this was so weird y'all. kinda,,, sent me back to that time, y’know? like, so many of these messages are things i’ve said, and… yeah. it’s funky. almost feels like i'm here, sitting on my couch holding tears back, tryna stop my best friend from slipping away from me. yeah, i really ran around with a fucked up crowd, huh.
> 
> also, title is from ‘twin-sized mattress’ by the front bottoms, which was the real life equivalent of kokichi's favorite song that i rediscovered only recently. the last segment with the lyrics is from that song, too.
> 
> oh also i think there's an oumasai week maybe going on rn? yeah this. isn't. part of oumasai week. i should have probably waited on posting this but i was in my vibes today, remembering shit, and it just felt like a good time, y'know? so uh. i'll get you some oumasai content someday maybe. hopefully. pensive.
> 
> stay safe, lovelies.


End file.
